"Sir Christopher Blunt," said the stranger, "in your capacity of one of his Majesty's Justices of the Peace, you will have the kindness to receive the confession of the two men now before you; and you, Dr. Lascelles, as a gentleman of the highest respectability, will witness the present proceedings."

Thus speaking, he drew a writing-table close up to the place where Sir Christopher Blunt was sitting; and the knight, inflated with the pride of his official station, and conscious of the importance of the part which he was now enacting, assumed as dignified and solemn a deportment as possible. A Bible was produced; and he directed the two prisoners to be sworn, the stranger administering the oath.

"Now, my men," said the Justice of the Peace, "it is my duty to hear and receive any confession which you may have to make to me. But I give you due warning that it is to be published, and, from what I have already been told, will be used elsewhere. Remember, also, that you are now upon your oaths; and you must consider yourselves in just the same position as if you were in a regular police-court, under usual circumstances."

Having thus delivered himself of what he believed to be an admirable prelude to the proceedings, Sir Christopher glanced complacently towards Dr. Lascelles, as much as to say, "That was rather good, I flatter myself;" and the physician responded with a sign of approval. The knight then fixed his eyes in a searching manner upon the two prisoners, who, however, appeared to be much less in awe of the magisterial dignity than of the presence of the mysterious stranger, at whom they from time to time cast furtive looks of terror and supplication.

"Sir Christopher Blunt," said that individual, who throughout the proceedings spoke in a feigned tone, and sate in such a manner that the light never once fell fully upon his countenance, "it is now necessary to remind you that a gentleman with whom you are well acquainted, and whose name is Torrens, is now in a criminal gaol, charged with the murder of Sir Henry Courtenay."

"I heard the news with grief, and indeed with incredulity as to the truth of the accusation," observed the knight.

"Ask those men, sir," said the stranger, in a low and impressive voice, "what they know of that foul assassination."

"God bless me!" exclaimed Sir Christopher, much agitated: "surely these men now before me are not the—the——"

"The real murderers of Sir Henry Courtenay!" added the stranger solemnly.

"Is this possible?" cried the Justice of the Peace, surveying the prisoners with apprehension and horror.

"That's the confession we have to make, your worship," said Tim the Snammer, in a dogged tone.

"Dreadful! dreadful!" murmured the knight: then, somewhat mastering his emotions, he asked, "What is your name?"

"Timothy Splint, your worship," was the reply.

"And your's?" demanded Sir Christopher, making notes as he proceeded.

"Joshua Pedler, your worship."

"Where do you live?—and what are you?" were the next questions.

"Where we did live, your worship means," said Tim the Snammer; "but it doesn't much signify answering that query—since we don't live now where we used to do; and as for what we are, your worship can pretty well guess, now that we've confessed having murdered Sir Henry Courtenay—which was all through a mistake."

"A mistake!" repeated Sir Christopher.

"Yes, sir," continued the Snammer; "and I'll tell you all about it."

"Speak slow—very slow," said the knight; "because I shall commit to paper every word you utter, remember."

"Well, sir," resumed Timothy Splint; "it happened in this way. Me and my companion here, Joshua Pedler, took it into our heads to break into Torrens Cottage, for no good purpose, as you may suppose."

"To rob the house—eh?" said Sir Christopher.

"Just so, your worship. Well, we reached the Cottage between twelve and one o'clock at night—or nearer one, I should think—and looking through the chinks of the shutters, for there was a light in the parlour, we saw a pile of gold and a heap of notes on the table, and a gentleman asleep on the sofa."

"You follow this man, Dr. Lascelles?" said Sir Christopher, turning towards the physician.

"Word for word," was the reply.

"Go on, then," exclaimed the knight.

"We opened the front-door in a jiffey, your worship, and without making any noise," continued Splint; "and we went into the parlour. Josh Pedler secured the notes and gold; and I held my clasp-knife close to the throat of the gentleman sleeping on the sofa."

"Did you know who he was?" demanded the knight.

"Not a bit of it, your worship. We took him for Mr. Torrens, as a matter of course," continued the Snammer. "Josh Pedler went to ransack the side-board, and upset a sugar-basin, or some such thing in the drawer. The gentleman awoke, and was just on the point of crying out, when I drew the clasp-knife across his throat."

"Merciful goodness!" exclaimed Sir Christopher, shuddering from head to foot, and glancing uneasily around him.

"Shocking! shocking!" said the doctor, with unfeigned emotion.

"The very knife that I did it with was in my pocket," observed Tim the Snammer, "when we was made prisoners and brought here."

The stranger, who had remained silent for some time, now rose from his seat, and took from the mantel the fatal weapon, which he laid upon the table before Sir Christopher, saying, "This is collateral evidence of the truth of the deposition now made."

"Well, upon my honour," observed the knight, recoiling from the ominous-looking instrument, "I have commenced my magisterial functions in an extraordinary—I may say, unheard-of manner. But let the prisoner proceed with his confession."

"I've very little more to say, your worship," answered the Snammer. "As soon as the deed was done, I could have wished it to be undone; and I know that my companion in trouble here, wished the same. We didn't go with the intention of doing it: it come upon us by itself, like—and I hope mercy will be showed us," he added, with a significant glance of appeal towards the mysterious individual of whom he seemed to be so much in awe.

"You and your comrade then left the house immediately, I suppose?" said Sir Christopher, interrogatively.

"Exactly so, your worship," replied Timothy Splint.

"And do you," continued the knight, addressing himself to Joshua Pedler, "admit the truth of all that your companion now states?"

"Every word of it, your worship," answered the man.

"We must therefore suppose," observed Dr. Lascelles, "that Mr. Torrens, upon discovering the dreadful deed, feared lest suspicion should fall upon himself, and buried the corpse in the garden where it was found."

"True!" said Sir Christopher. "And now, Joshua Pedler, you will inform me what you did with the money which you took away with you."

"I divided it, sir; and the big notes was changed into small ones," was the answer. "When me and my companion here was made prisoners, we had ever so much of the money about us; and it was took from us."

The stranger produced from his pocket a small parcel which he handed to Sir Christopher, saying, "There is the amount taken from the two prisoners."

"Very good," said Sir Christopher: then, after a few moments' profound reflection, he turned towards Dr. Lascelles, in whose ear he whispered these words, "To me it is very clear that those men have confessed the truth, and that they are the dreadful villains they represent themselves to be. But, as this statement is to be published, in connexion with our names, we must render the evidence against those fellows as complete and satisfactory as possible."

"I am perfectly of your way of thinking, Sir Christopher," returned the doctor, also speaking in a low whisper. "Since we are here on such an unpleasant business, we must do our duty effectually."

"Then those men should be examined separately in respect to the very minutest details of their self-accusing evidence," said the knight, still addressing himself in an under-tone to the physician; "or else the world will immediately declare that the whole thing was a mere farce, contrived by some of Torrens' friends to save him, and of which you and I were the dupes and the instruments."

"A very just fear on your part, Sir Christopher," observed the doctor, who, from the little he knew of the knight, would not have given him credit for so much penetration and forethought.

"But—but," said Sir Christopher, "I hardly like to propose it to the gentleman who had us brought here——"

"Oh! I will take that duty upon myself," interrupted Dr. Lascelles; and, immediately turning towards the stranger—who was however no stranger to him—he said in a loud and firm tone, "We wish to examine these men separately."

"Certainly," was the reply; and the mysterious master of the house forthwith rang the bell.

Wilton answered the summons, and was ordered to conduct Joshua Pedler into an adjoining room.

When this command was obeyed, and the domestic had led the prisoner away, Sir Christopher proceeded to question Timothy Splint again.

"You said just now that when you looked through the window, you saw a gentleman sleeping on the sofa? Now, did your companion also peep through the crevices in the shutters?"

"He did, your worship," was the answer.

"And which way was the gentleman lying?"

"With his feet towards the window, and his head on that end of the sofa which was nearest to the door."

"And when you both went into the house, who entered first?"

"Myself, your worship."

"And when you went away again, who departed first?"

"I think Josh Pedler was in advance—in fact, I'm sure he was, because I remember shutting the front-door behind me."

"Which side of the table were the pile of gold and the heap of notes on?" inquired Sir Christopher, racking his brain for as many minute questions as possible.

"The money was all lying on a large book at that end of the table next to the window, your worship," responded Tim the Snammer.

The knight put several other queries of the same trivial, but really important nature; and Splint was then removed from the room, Joshua Pedler being led back again to his place.

Precisely the same questions which had been asked of the Snammer, were now put to the other villain; and the answers corresponded in the minutest particulars.

"There is no possibility of doubt as to the genuine character of the present scene," whispered the knight to Dr. Lascelles.

"I have been all along of that way of thinking," replied the physician. "At the same time I admire the precautions you have adopted, Sir Christopher, and the skilful manner in which you have examined and cross-examined these self-inculpatory scoundrels."

"You really are of opinion that I have done the thing well—eh, doctor?" said the Justice of the Peace, with a complacent smile. "Well—I am rejoiced to perceive that I have given you satisfaction. Our unknown friend there may now have the other villain brought back again; so that the two partners in crime may sign these depositions."

Dr. Lascelles intimated the knight's desire to the stranger, who forthwith caused Tim the Snammer to be reconducted to his place in the room where this extraordinary scene was enacted.

Sir Christopher then read over, in a slow and measured tone, the whole of his notes—containing the voluntary confession of the miscreants, and the subsequent examination.

"You, Timothy Splint, and you, Joshua Pedler," he said, when that task was accomplished, "will now sign, or otherwise attest, this document."

The unknown rang the bell twice, and the four dependants who had conducted the two prisoners into the room in the first instance, immediately re-appeared; and, on a signal from their master, they loosened the cords which confined the hands of the villains, in such a way that the latter were enabled to affix their signatures to the depositions, Dr. Lascelles acting as the witness.

"You may now remove those men altogether," said the unknown.

The four dependants immediately blindfolded them, and led them away from the apartment, carefully closing the door behind them.

"I presume that Sir Christopher Blunt and myself are now at liberty to depart?" said the doctor.

"Not before you have each given me a solemn pledge that you will not publish nor even hint at the occurrences of this night until twenty-four hours shall have elapsed," returned the stranger.

"For my part I don't at all object to give the promise required," exclaimed the knight hastily; for the mystery of the whole proceeding had imbued him with the utmost awe in respect to the unknown.

"And I will as readily pledge my solemn word of honour to maintain that condition," observed the doctor.

"In that case, gentlemen," said the stranger, "you shall be conveyed hence without delay. I need hardly enjoin you to use that confession, which you will take away with you, in the manner alone calculated to save the life of Mr. Torrens and relieve him from the dreadful charge hanging over his head."

"Rest assured that all shall be done which the emergency of the case requires, and which we have now the means to effect," said Sir Christopher. "And now, with your permission, I shall take a draught of wine and water—for I feel somewhat exhausted with these proceedings."

While Sir Christopher was helping himself at the table, Dr. Lascelles stepped up to the individual whom circumstances compel us to denominate "the stranger" or "the unknown," and said in a low and hasty whisper, "What is the reason of this delay of twenty-four hours in respect to the proclamation of Torrens' innocence?"

"Because Old Death and others must be in my power, ere the occurrences of this might be published," was the answer, likewise spoken in a hurried whisper; "or else they will suspect where these scenes have been enacted."

"But are you sure of capturing them?" demanded Lascelles.

"Confident," was the brief but emphatic reply.

The unknown then rang the bell, and significantly intimated to Wilton, who answered the summons, that his guests were ready to depart. The domestic bowed and withdrew: but in a few minutes he returned, accompanied by another dependant; and the two domestics proceeded to blindfold both the doctor and the knight, the unknown apologising for the necessity of renewing this process. He himself then conducted them to the carriage which Wilton had ordered round to the door, and into which the stranger followed them.

It then drove away at a rapid rate; and, after taking sundry windings, stopped, at the expiration of an hour, opposite St. James's church, Piccadilly, just as the clock struck two in the morning.

The knight and the doctor descended, having already bade farewell to the mysterious individual whom they left inside; and the carriage instantaneously drove off.